


Lessons Learned

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [3]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Kudos: 22





	Lessons Learned

Aaron Hotchner was dreaming about his family; his beautiful wife, Haley, and their beautiful son Jack, on a picnic, little Jack kicking a ball around, Haley smiling at him. He reached out to hold her hand but a ringtone broke the fantasy. Sighing, he reached for his phone instead.

"Hotchner…When?…Did they raise the terror alert?… No, that's probably best…All right, get everybody in now. I'll be there in a minute." He hung up and Haley slowly got up next to him, combing her hair behind her face.

"What’s going on?" She yawned, folding her hands over her face and pulling her knees close to her body.

"Nothing, I just have to go to the office."

"It’s 6:15, and you're talking about a terror alert? It's bad, isn't it?" She rubbed her face and Aaron got dressed behind her.

"I don't know yet."

"Please don't lie to me." She knelt her chin on her shoulder.

"It might be. I may not be home tonight. I mean, I might be home late."

"I know."

"Shoot. I forgot. Tomorrow is the day we scheduled to take Jack to have his pictures taken."

"Don’t worry about it. I'll reschedule."

"No, no, no. Go ahead and take him, and I'll do my best to be there, okay?" He grabbed his belt, tie and jacket.

"Just come back safely," she pleaded.

"I will," he promised her, taking his wallet, gun and badge. "Bye," he whispered before kissing her softly. Her doe eyes followed him out the door.

* * *

The ladies of the BAU were already setting up in the conference room when the men walked in.

"Everybody meet Agent Prentiss?" Hotch asked his team.

"The other day," Garcia piped up.

"This morning getting coffee," Piper voiced.

"I’ve been filling her in on protocol." JJ distributed the case at hand. The woman with black hair and matching suit jacket rose to shake Morgan’s hand.

"We can make nice later," Hotch reminded them and turned to JJ. "What do we know?"

As Garcia grabbed her flamboyant yellow pen, JJ attended to the screen. "The DEA raided what they thought was a hardened meth lab right here, in Northern Virginia, but they found this instead."

Morgan and Gideon stared at the image on the screen. "That could be a dispersal device for a chemical weapon," Derek suggested. "Sophisticated."

"Homeland Security is thinking of Al Qaeda."

"They’ve developed devices that span the spectrum of sophistication," Reid explained, glancing at Prentiss. "Some as simple as soda bottles and paint cans."

"They’re called al ikhteraa, literally 'the invention,’" she said, pronouncing the word perfectly.

"They are," Spencer muttered softly to Derek while shrugging quickly. Piper grinned, despite herself. She’d met the agent this morning and was already impressed by her fluency in languages.

Hotch broke Piper’s thoughts asking, "Do we know what the biological or chemical agent is yet?"

"No, not yet," Morgan replied.

"The cell members bailed out through a tunnel," JJ said, glancing at her file. "The DEA recovered a Nextel 2-way and managed to intercept a message." She placed the message on the table between Reid and Prentiss. As the new agent picked the message up, JJ clarified, "No, that’s not the transcript, it’s in-"

"It’s in Arabic." She proceeded to translate the document ad-lib. "Our friends surprised us and eloped." Garcia looked up at her from her laptop screen. "We can no longer wait for the wedding as planned." Piper was sure that Gideon couldn’t stop staring. "We can deliver our gift at the next crescent." Emily looked up from the paper at her new colleagues and heard a low whistle from Piper.

"You’ve been holding out on me," she snickered. Penelope just smiled at her. Derek’s forehead was about to stay wrinkled forever.

"I lived in several middle-eastern countries growing up," Emily explained.

"Next crescent?" Gideon asked, piercing through Piper's laugh.

"Muslims sometimes use a lunar calendar," Bishop informed the group. "We’d have to look it up-"

"Next crescent moon is in two days," Garcia added.

"So whatever they're attacking, it's happening in less than 48 hours," Hotch summed.

"Payment for the Nextel is linked to this man, _Jind Allah,_ " JJ reminded the team.

_"_ Literally 'soldier of God,’" Emily translated.

"I don’t like the sound of that," Bishop muttered.

"That’s pretty poor operational security for a sophisticated plot," Morgan remarked.

"Two months ago, Jind Allah was captured leaving the U. S. using a forged Pakistani passport via Richmond International Airport. He's been held as a ghost detainee in Guantanamo Bay ever since," JJ noted.

"So technically, he doesn't exist," said Garcia.

"Soldier of God isn't a name," Gideon muttered loud enough for the group to hear.

"No, it's most likely a name taken on for the Jihad. Extremists claim it's a holy war, yet the words "holy" and "war" never appear together in the Quran," Piper replied.

"Do we know his real name? CIA interrogators have gotten nothing out of the guy."

"They need us to break him."

"We do know from past intercepts that he's a recruiter. He came into this country to assemble the omega cell, a sleeper cell with an unknown mission," JJ sighed, shaking her head.

"We have 48 hours to do what the CIA hasn't been able to manage in two months?" Morgan looked at the team.

Piper flipped through the report and sighed. Under her breath, she murmured, "Easy, right?"

"We could be looking at the first attack on our soil since 9/11," Gideon thought aloud.

_Yikes, that’s dramatic._

* * *

"Hey," Hotch greeted Gideon in his office. The profiler was packing his go-bag in a hurry.

"Car here? I told Reid and Bishop 5 minutes."

"I think you should take Prentiss with you to Guantanamo." Gideon looked at the unit chief.

"Excuse me?"

"She could be of help."

"I don't know enough about her abilities," he said raising his shoulders. "There’s plenty for her to do back here." He barely looked back at Hotchner.

"I don't know what she's capable of either, but we've got to find out sooner or later." Gideon walked past him, out of the office.

"It’s an interrogation, not a training exercise," he said, looking back at Hotch.

"She’s the only member of the team fluent in Arabic."

"There are other translators."

"Yeah, but they haven't studied behaviour," Aaron persisted.

"She even have her ready bag yet?" Emily watched the two senior agents, slowly lifting her ready bag onto the desk.

"My guess is there isn't much this woman's unprepared for." They glanced at the younger agent. Sighing, Gideon rushed down the steps.

"Car leaves in 4 minutes," he said aside to her as he rushed past.

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling and looking back at Agent Hotchner. Piper glanced at the fellow agent excitedly. She was just glad to have another girl to talk to.

* * *

Emily sat near Gideon and Reid on the sofa, watching them play chess. "Excuse me, sir. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate-"

"Do not thank me," he cut in.

"Sir?" Reid glanced between the two of them awkwardly.

"It’s not a favour."

"Of course," Emily amended. "I know that."

"You’re coming to do a job."

Reid asked his mentor, "Do you think the interrogation of Jind Allah will work in time?"

"Interrogation is the most dynamic form of profiling."

"That’s not an answer," she scoffed. "Sir," Emily enunciated.

"He’s been locked away in Gitmo, he doesn't know we raided the cell's safe house, that’s an advantage for us. The main thing is to get him talking about anything, then his language and body movements will betray him." He focused back on the game at hand. As Reid picked up his pawn, Gideon continued. "It’s like this; you focus on the way your opponent holds his piece, how quickly and firmly he places it." Reid became flustered hearing his mentor, dropping his pawn, then hearing Piper's quiet giggle behind him."Then you watch his face and body. It'll telegraph a player's strategy, his training, maybe his motivations."

"Is that what you need us to do?"

"No, I need you to listen." He glanced at Emily. "You’re fluent in Arabic. I won't know the nuances like you. Every word, every phrase. Be on the lookout for subtext, ulterior meanings." Emily subtly straightened. "Reid, I want you to watch for tells. Non-verbals, micro-expressions. Watch him when he's comfortable and relaxed, then note the behavioural changes when he's under stress."

"You got anything specific for me?" Gideon looked up at his appointed consultant as she handed him a cup of coffee. " _Where’s mine?"_ Spencer mouthed at her. "You don’t get any, you’ve already had 5 cups in the past hour," she reprimanded him.

"Absorb the information we gain about him. I want you to understand who he is, his character, his background, those timelines you make. I need you to create a profile on the spot." Piper nodded thoughtfully. "If we can establish a baseline, we'll be able to read him once I challenge his belief systems. Before I can get him to give up where or how they'll attack, I'll first have to cause him to reveal something of himself."

Piper pulled Emily to the other side of the plane, "Did you see Morgan’s face when you translated Arabic." She threw her head back as she laughed. "Priceless! You blew them away." She glanced back at the boys before motioning for Emily to take a seat. "Ugh, you have no idea how happy I am that you could come."

"Really?" Emily was confused at Piper’s excitement. "I thought you were close to them."

"Please, Gideon is the only reason I’m here, and this is like my second week."

"But you fit in so well." Emily leaned forward.

"Bah, Gideon will warm up to you." She raised an eyebrow and Piper. "Trust me, the only reason he’s a little icy is that he doesn’t know you yet. I guarantee you do what you did this morning, you’ll be the most valuable member here."

"So tell me about the team." Piper glanced at her watch.

"Okay, Agent Hotchner, we all call him Hotch, might secretly be a robot. I don’t think I’ve seen him crack a smile or blink. Used to be a lawyer, moved to the BAU afterwards, dunno why. Gideon basically built the BAU. He’s like a genius at this behaviour stuff but he never lets on to what he really thinks. Dr Reid," she said, glancing behind her discreetly before continuing. "He’s like a super genius, graduated high school at 12, 3 PhDs before he was of drinking age, 2 B.As in psychology and sociology. IQ of 187 and can read 20 000 words a minute. If that’s not enough for you," she said, pointing a finger up. "The guy has an eidetic memory." She laughed at Emily’s contorted face. "Moving on, Penelope Garcia, the girl has the weirdest relationship with Derek I have ever seen. They have like this rule to never call each other by name. You’ll see. Anyway, she’s like a wizard with technology, it’s crazy. I heard she got the job by hacking into the FBI but I can’t name my sources, obvi."

* * *

"What do you think they’re talking about?" Spencer asked, tugging softly at his scarf.

"Probably about the team," Gideon said softly before glancing at his terrified expression. "Reid, I wouldn’t worry about it. That girl has nothing bad to say about you. Your turn."

* * *

"Derek is like the biggest softie I’ve ever met but never give him any ammunition against you," she warned her. "He is relentless."

"What do you mean?"

"For my housewarming party, Reid got me a potted hyacinth and he wouldn’t stop teasing him until Spence stabbed him with metal tongs." Emily laughed at the mental image.

"So you’re like a family?"

"In every way fathomable," Piper said, sipping on her coffee. They got up to join the boys, partly because they’d run out of things to talk about, partly because Emily was curious to see which genius was going to win.

Emily glanced at her watch. "You should put a lid on your coffee by the way," she said to her new friend.

"Hmm?"

"We’re almost there. Hold on." Gideon fell onto the seat next to him, as did Reid. Bishop and Prentiss were unlucky as they had nowhere to fall. They clung onto their seat and Piper prayed her coffee wouldn’t spill. Unfortunately for the boys, the twist of the plane meant their chess game fell to the floor.

"Gitmo’s runway is perpendicular to Cuban airspace, so approaching aircraft have to negotiate a last-minute 90 degree right turn in order to land. They call it the Gitmo twist."

"That twist almost cost me my coffee," Piper grumbled. "Hotch wouldn’t have talked to me for a week if he found a stain." Spencer gazed forlornly at the tumbled black and white pieces.

"I was winning," he said wistfully.

"Actually, he would’ve had you in 3," said Emily, casually flicking the hair off of her face. Reid and Bishop both looked at the new agent and then at Gideon, who looked completely neutral, simply shrugging.

* * *

As soon as they landed in the detainment centre, Derek had called Piper. She’d let the others go in first while she took the call. "You better not be the harbinger of doom."

_"You tell me, sweet cheeks, we have a preliminary profile for you."_

"Talk to me."

_"The tubes surrounding the device could be the explosive charge and the cylinder's gotta be where they put whatever bio or chem agent they plan on dispersing."_

"Bio meaning some kind of disease?"

_"Dunno yet, we’re still working on that. It looks like a 4 sleeper cell, they’ve assimilated into the community. Hotch says we’re looking at middle-eastern males in their early twenties."_

"Anything else for me?"

_"You know it. The size of the device suggests they're looking at significant targets; military installations, government buildings."_

"Could be some kind of symbolism. Alright, thanks, Morgan, I’ll let the guys know."

_"Hey, Pipes. How’s the new girl doing?"_

"She’s brilliant and that is all I’m telling you."

_"Rude. See you when you get back."_ She put her phone away and motioned the guard to go first.

* * *

"You must be the BAU boys," boomed the slightly balding man before noticing Bishop and Prentiss. "And gals, pardon me."

"I’m Jason Gideon."

"Andy Bingaman, FBI."

"Agent Prentiss, Dr Bishop, Dr Reid," introduced Gideon. Spencer waved, his mouth taut in a line.

"I'm the intelligence supervisor here at Gitmo."

"You guys having a hard time getting Jind Allah to talk?"

"Not only can't they get him to budge," he started, leading them to the workspace, "but 2 weeks ago, word got out that one of the other detainees was spilling secrets. Jind Allah managed to have a 3-minute conversation with him in the shower line. That night, the other detainee committed suicide."

"Charming," Piper murmured. The agents looked at the multiple TV sets. "Hell of an interrogation strategy," Piper said. "How long has he been kept like this?" The man had chains on his arms and feet and was nude except for a pair of white briefs with dark purple bruises.

"2 months."

"He's reciting the Qu'ran from memory,” Reid noticed. “He's most likely a hafez."

"He must have done it a dozen times since he's come to this facility."

"Some Muslim children are able to do it since age 12," Piper voiced.

"Two months of interrogation, that's all the CIA's been able to get out of him."

"There are cuts and bruises under his right eye socket," Reid noted before Piper asked.

"What kind of tactics are they using?"

"I control the actions to the detainees, but I can assure you, my protest about their methods has been ignored."

"Let the interrogation proceed normally," Gideon demanded. "I’m gonna interrupt and demand they stop harassing. There a bathroom here?" Bingaman motioned for a security guard to take the agent.

"It’d be easier if I just tell them to stop now."

"I wouldn’t," Piper warned the FBI agent. "That man has been in severe conditions for the past 2 months. He’s more likely to trust Gideon if the reaction is more…" she paused, searching for the right word, "visceral, more believable," she finished.

_Go ahead with phase 2 as planned,_ he radioed in and they heard the response.

_Copy that._

They watched the CIA interrogators circle around the detainee like a falcon does his prey. Bingaman was confused."You really gonna put a show on for these guys?"

"No, not for them, for Jind Allah, he needs to see me as a complete contrast to what he's come to expect from his captors."

"It’s the best way to jump-start him into talking," Reid added. "Do you have a glass board by any chance?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right here, have at it agents."

Gideon left to make his dramatic entrance while Piper shifted the board into position, grabbing markers and cleaning fluid from her bag, and Spencer started setting up. Emily noticed Piper smiling while setting up. "What’s up?"

"Hmm?"

"You’re smiling."

"We have a terrorist in a cell, Em, why would I be smiling?"

"She’s answering a question with a question, Emily, she’s lying," Reid tattled.

Huffing, Piper leaned in and whispered quietly. "He thought I was an agent." She grinned and turned back to her board. Emily rolled her eyes as she focused on the detainee on the screens.

* * *

Agent Gideon shuffled into the interrogation room, glancing at both CIA agents, holding an orange jumpsuit. The interrogator that was leaning into Jind Allah’s face straightened. "Who the hell are you?"

"Supervisory special agent Jason Gideon, I’m an FBI behavioural analyst. It's time to show this man some respect."

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"You have orders from Agent Bingaman to leave so I can speak with this detainee alone." The two men, having sighted Bingaman, edged out of the room. Gideon slowly placed the jumpsuit on the chained man’s lap.

"I’m sorry for the treatment you've suffered," Gideon apologised before the man reciting in front of him. "If you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with you."

The man bowed his head to his hands.

"He’s stopped reciting," Emily remarked. Piper turned from her board and leaned in to see the screen. "He’s sizing Gideon up."

"The man hasn’t been treated with civility in months. The reaction was predicted." They looked back at the consultant. "He’s wondering if there’s some ulterior motive, which is understandable."

* * *

_"If I don't mind?"_

_"I’d like to get to know you as a person, your faith, your ideology."_

_"To what end?"_

_"Studying human behaviour is what I do."_

Piper split the board in half and started scribbling Morgan’s information on the cell in one column, started examining the prisoner’s personality in the other, while Spencer scrawled in his notebook.

_"I'd like to believe, with greater understanding one day, we can come to a peaceful resolution of our differences."_

_"Is that so?"_ The man smiled.

_"Look, I don't know what you've done or what you may have planned to do."_ Gideon walked over and pulled up a chair. _"But unlike the other detainees here, you have the education, intelligence to convey the nuances of your culture. That's what interests me."_

_"Until I don't give you what you want. Then you will resort to other tactics."_

_"I swore an oath to uphold the United States constitution, no matter where I am, no matter who I deal with."_

* * *

Piper’s phone rang again. "Sorry, guys. It’s Morgan." She raised the phone to her ear. "What do you have?"

_"We found a list of chemicals. Garcia said it’s a list of additives that could weaponize Anthrax."_

"Jesus, just when you think the worst is behind you. Thanks, Morgan." She relayed the news to the others.

"Could they get enough anthrax?" Emily turned to Spencer.

"The letter sent to Senator Tom Daschle's office in 2002 only contained two grams of purified spores."

"That doesn’t sound that bad," Piper voiced.

"Two grams is enough to kill 25 million people if effectively distributed."

"Dear God," Piper said, running a hand through her short hair. They turned back to the video stream.

_"Are you willing to have a chat with me?"_

_"Go ahead. Gideon, let’s chat."_ Emily leaned forward, resting a hand on a chair.

"What is it Em?"

"He’s from Egypt, Cairo."

"You sure?"

"No, he could be Yemeni, but odds are he's Egyptian."

_"What type of name is Gideon?"_

_"American."_

_"I often forget that in your culture, you put your country first and your god last."_

Emily picked up the radio. "Sir, he was born and raised in Egypt. They pronounce 'J' sounds as a 'G.’"

_"You don't consider yourself Egyptian as well as Muslim?"_

_"Egyptian. In two minutes, you know more about me than those thugs found out in two months."_

Reid smiled at Prentiss.

_"They and I have very, very different motives and methodologies."_

_"And yet your country relies on them to protect you from us."_

_"Sometimes they're their own worst enemy."_

_"Who is your worst enemy, Agent Gideon?"_

_"It’s not a who. It's a what; ignorance."_

_"You’re a very honest man."_

_"And you? Must have become a hafez by what, age 10?"_

_"9."_

_"You must have had tremendous discipline and dedication to memorise the entire Qu'ran by age 9."_

_"Perhaps,"_ he said, as Gideon rose from his seat. _"We are through already?"_

_"No, not at all, the sun is about to set. Mecca is in that direction. I'll have a prayer rug and water bowl sent in."_

Gideon closed the door softly behind him, rubbing his hands as he made his way to the trio. "What do we have?"

"Hotch and Morgan found the backup location, they’re planning the raid as we speak," Emily started. "For now, all we know for certain is he was born and raised in Egypt, likely in Cairo, memorised the Quran by the age of nine."

"I have a few theories," Piper proposed as she set down the water bottle. "The more probable one is a life of discipline passed down from his parents to him since generational tradition is a staple of Islamic culture. It could be all he’s ever known. The other is that he was inducted at a young age into a strict Islamist society. But his anti-American sentiment is definitely rooted in loss. That kind of quiet hatred suggests the violent death of someone he cares about."

* * *

"Can I offer you some water?"

"I offer you some first." Gideon drank, then passed the bottle to the man in front of him, just before taking one himself. "They only kept it there to show me what I could not have."

"I’d like you to explain something to me. How can you ignore the fact that Muhammad preached passivity while he was in Mecca? 'Do no violence.'"

"His later message from Medina was perfectly clear. 'When violence come upon you, you must fight back with violence.’"

" _He's quoting from the Hadith, not from the Qu'ran. It's called the verse of the sword. They argue that it cancels out earlier teachings,_ " Reid spoke from the radio.

"Verse of the sword. Just someone's spin on the words of the prophet. It's not even part of the Qu’ran."

"But it does say in the Qu’ran, fight and slay the infidels wherever you find them and seize them in every stratagem of war."

"Unless they repent. Establish regular prayers and practice regular charity."

"Is it your intention, Mr Gideon, to become a man of faith and revert to Islam?"

"I am a man of faith. I have repented, I pray regularly, and I practice charity. I have never committed violence against you, so how is it that my faith would allow you to live and worship as you please, and yours would take my life and snuff it out?"

"You are simply misguided people of the book. But if you revert to Islam…"

" _He’s cocky, Gideon,_ " Piper spoke into the radio. " _He keeps repeating the word revert, as though everyone has inherently converted from Islam."_

"A billion Muslims, one billion Muslims manage to practice their faith in peace. For Allah is surely merciful."

"You…inquired about my childhood earlier. I will tell you...that it was a happy one until... one day... A bomb fell out of the sky and levelled the bazaar that I was in with my family. I was only 8."

* * *

"He’s opening up about himself."

"Maybe," Reid said. "We need to verify what he's saying, though."

Piper leaned in over Spencer’s shoulder. "Can you rewind it just a tiny bit?"

She watched it closely this time. "What are you thinking Pipes?" She grabbed her marker.

"Something not fully formed yet. Get Garcia to verify, I’ll get back to you."

" _Speak_."

"Garcia, I need you to check something for me. I'm looking for a stray bombing in a bazaar somewhere in Egypt approximately 30 years ago."

_"Okay, great. That's not too obscure."_

"I don't need you to get any details. We're just trying to set a baseline for Jind Allah's truthfulness. I need to know if it happened at all."

_"When I know, you'll know."_

"Thank you." They turned to the screens, scanning the interrogation.

* * *

"When the rubble was cleared...half...of my family was dead. It was on that day that I swore my life to vengeance for Allah."

"And for that very reason, those holding you here can never let you leave. Your only hope is to tell me so I can hopefully one day share your struggle with the world."

"Your government won't even admit that I exist. How possibly can you tell my side of the story?"

* * *

"Okay, hear me out." The agents swivelled around to face her, just as Gideon walked in. "There was something bugging me about that story of his childhood. It’s his hesitation." She pointed towards the board. "That’s his story, right. He’s 8, in the bazaar with his family. All of a sudden, bomb falls from the sky and half his family is dead. Right?"

"Yeah," Gideon agreed. "What’s your point?"

"He keeps hesitating in bits he shouldn’t be," Piper said, gesturing wildly. "The only aspect he doesn’t hesitate about is the bomb. He enunciates," Piper circled some of the words, "with his family. Probably true. But I don’t think he was 8. I think he lost someone in his adulthood, someone he was responsible for." Piper walks over the screen and rewinds the tape. Once its cued, she pauses it. "See that pain. Watch his forehead wrinkle when he talks about the bomb. An 8-year-old who loses his parents, that has serious self-esteem issues-"

"You'd be looking for parental figures everywhere," Emily interrupted, catching on to Piper's thought.

"Exactly, but this guy is a leader, he’s arrogant. He says half of his family is dead but he’s independent, no personal attachments. This man may have memorised the Quran at 9, but his behaviour completely changed when he was talking about his childhood. He was calmer, more rational than he should be."

"Tell Garcia to look for more recent bombings," Gideon directed. Reid’s phone rang.

"Hey Hotch, you got Bishop, Gideon, Prentiss, and me."

_"We're at cell location number 2. No cell members, no lab, no dispersal devices and we’re still looking for escape tunnels."_

"Got it," Reid replied, turning his phone off and turning to the others. "We’re running out of time. The attack's supposed to take place in less than 24 hours."

"So getting Jind Allah to talk is our only chance of finding them," Emily sighed.

"Time I confronted him with the truth. Show him my hand."

* * *

"I'm going to give you the respect of telling you what just happened. A team of agents raided an omega cell location, both of them. Our men are in place in Annandale as we speak. You gain nothing by remaining silent," Gideon informed him as he entered the room. As he spoke, the prisoner’s fists turned to open palms, rubbing slowly against his leg.

_"Gideon, something's wrong. This guy seemed relieved by what you just told him."_ At that statement, Gideon excused himself politely. He walked calmly out the room, then told Reid to call Hotch.

_"What’s the problem?"_ Aaron’s voice was calm and even. Piper felt her heart about to burst.

"It’s a trap. Get everybody out of there. Now! Now! Now!" he yelled into the phone.

* * *

Emily was pacing. Reid was staring at his phone. Piper blinked at the board trying not to imagine the worst, trying not to break down in front of anyone. Gideon kept wringing his hands. Piper’s ringtone jolted her. "It’s Bishop." She closed her eyes. "Thanks, Pen." Taking a deep breath, she turned around. "They’re okay. But…" She exhaled shakily. "But they lost a S.W.A.T agent. Kenny. He was a friend of Morgan’s."

"Was anthrax involved?" Emily asked.

"No."

"That wasn’t the final target then," Reid exhaled.

* * *

"You look troubled, my friend."

"You killed one of my men."

"I was here with you."

"The second location was a trap. One of my agents was killed in the explosion."

"This is war. We expect casualties. Shouldn't you?"

"He was a good man."

"If he would convert, there would be no reason for him to fear death."

"What do you say to his family?"

" _Is he crying?"_ Piper spoke softly. " _Look at his hands."_

"I say: Where were you to mourn when my son was murdered?"

* * *

"He **was** lying about the first story. He didn’t hesitate at all here," Piper gently spoke.

"And this time when he mentioned his son," Reid continued, "he looked at his hands like he had to concentrate to control his anger."

"Which means it must have been more recent," Emily added. Spencer reached for the phone.

"Garcia. What do you have on that bombing?”

_"Okay. I'm cross-referencing bombings and child victims. Seven years ago, in the heart of Cairo, the Egyptian government blamed Hezbollah, but conspiracy theories on the street claimed it was a joint US - Israeli strike that went astray. Your ghost detainee's name is Jamal Abaza."_

"How about his son's name? Do you have that?"

_"Amir Abaza. 8. Killed in the blast."_

"All right. Find out everything you can on that. I'll get back to you soon."

Emily grabbed the radio. "Sir, we know his real identity."

* * *

Garcia spun in her chair, JJ looking on. "Reid, I got something for you."

" _You’re on speaker."_

_"_ Jamal Abaza's been in the U. S. for a while. He volunteered as the prison imam at the Dearfield correctional centre three years ago."

" _How could the CIA not know that?_ " Piper asked.

" _They’re focused overseas,"_ Emily replied. _"We’re domestic."_

"Yeah, they probably sent a request for a domestic information search, and it's somewhere making its way through channels."

" _Thanks, Pen, you’re a legend,_ " Piper praised her.

* * *

"If he was a prison imam," Spencer got up and started pacing, "he must have recruited Militant Islamic Society members. M.I.S is an atypical prison organisation. They pick up an amalgam of ethnicities, those that slip through the cracks, the ones that traditional groups won't accept. It's made up largely of American citizens, citizens with a reason for hating the government," Reid finished.

"We’re looking at homegrown terrorists," Emily noted grimly.

The four profilers found the two CIA agents sitting with empty coffee cups. "What the hell do you want?"

"The name Jamal Abaza mean anything to you?"

"Abaza was an imam in Cairo. He preached Jihad to his followers, but he fell off the grid seven years ago."

"That’s because when his son died, he took the Jihad name: Jind Allah. He came to America to recruit sleeper cells." At Gideon’s words, the agents stood up.

"You’re telling us that that detainee in there is Jamal Abaza?"

"He was also a prison imam in Virginia three years ago," Reid interrupted. "Are you familiar with the Militant Islamic Society?"

"They’re homegrown?"

"We know the cell that Abaza put together has access to anthrax," Emily added, "but we can't find any reports of any going missing in the States."

"We have protocols that we have to follow."

"You really going to allow a terrorist attack on U. S. soil because of protocols? I told you what I learned in there because you and I, FBI, CIA, right now we have the ability to break through all the protocol and share information."

"Let me see what we have."

"Coordinate with Agent Jareau and Penelope Garcia at Quantico," Gideon said irritably, marching back into the office.

"You think it’ll work?" Reid asked.

"I don’t know," Emily sighed. "CIA’s tough, They play it pretty close to the vest."

"Well, if we don't all work together, more people are gonna die."

15 minutes later, Piper walked back into the office.

"I just got a call from Garcia. Whatever you said must have worked, Gideon, because Penelope found a Dutch firm called Genimmune reported that they may have had a security breach involving anthrax last week."

"May have?" Emily asked.

"Apparently, they’re still doing a security and inventory sweep, but the real kicker is that they may be missing up to 20 grams of lab-grade anthrax."

"That could potentially kill a quarter billion people," Spencer managed, slumping in his seat.

"We have less than ten hours before the new crescent moon rises," Emily worried.

"Nine," he corrected.

"Aren’t you worried?"

"I’ve been with him long enough to trust him." He smiled at Emily.

"Well, you can worry slightly less. Hotch just texted me that they have a lead. Someone called Tariq Muhammed. Dutch citizen, Islamic convert. Travelled here 4 days ago under his original name, Andre Janssen. Perfect for a sleeper agent.”

* * *

Hotch and Morgan stepped out of their vehicle in front of Janssen’s house and walked over to the agents in blue.

"Infrared scanning still shows no one inside. We're doing a soft entry in case it's booby-trapped." The agents in biohazard suits barged through the door, separating, many clearing the house quickly, except for one.

"Sir, get in here!"

Half an hour later, their chief walked out to the two BAU agents. "We have 5 deceased males and what looks to be a crude lab, all shot in the head execution-style."

"Any anthrax on the scene?"

"Only residue. There's also packing and tags from 4 new backpacks."

"Backpacks?" Morgan looked to his boss.

"They’re already on the move. We're too late."

* * *

"Okay, thanks, Morgan." Spencer looked at his team. Piper was on the verge of breaking. His mentor was staring intently at Abaza. Emily was pacing. "The lead went cold. They were too late."

He saw them all break a little more. Gideon slammed his fist on the table and walked out. Emily said she needed a coffee. Spencer watched as Piper looked at the blue marker in her hand and flung it across the room. He didn’t even see it bounce off the window and barely heard it clatter to the floor. Before he knew it, the consultant was crying into his shoulder. Spencer didn’t say a word. There was no need. She just needed to be held. He felt her calm down, felt her squeeze for a heartbeat and then felt her step away. "Sorry," she spoke softly, like a mouse. She sniffled and he saw her push the pain away. This was what he hated about his job. The tension hanging in the air, the tantalising steps before a break in the case and seeing the tangible traces of a hard case linger in someone’s soul. "Tell me Gideon has a plan. That we’re not just waiting for a magical sign."

"I think he has a plan."

"5 people are dead, Spence. Because I can’t figure that psychopath out."

"This isn’t on you."

"Isn’t it, though? He said it, very clearly on the plane. Emily was meant to figure out the nuances, you were meant to see the behavioural tics. I was meant to predict it, but he’s just sitting there. Calm and iridescent. As though he doesn’t know that 5 people are dead." She closed her eyes.

"We have time, Piper, just stick it out." She still didn’t open them.

"Calm." She opened her eyes. "He’s so calm, why? He created the sleeper cell, which means he planned it, didn’t he?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So we only have 8 hours left until sunset, why isn’t he more worried?"

"Overconfidence, arrogance? We profiled that. Where are you going with this?" He saw your eyes widen.

"We need to overload him. Let’s see what happens if we give him a power trip."

* * *

When Reid and Gideon walked back in the interrogation room, he was still praying. "Have you finished?" Gideon asked.

"As you said, the sun is set."

"Yes. I'd like you to meet a colleague of mine. Dr Reid." He gave an awkward wave.

"May we speak?"

"Of course. I have a little time." When the agents stared at him blankly, he clarified, "That was a joke. I have all the time. Please."

"A joke, well, we're making progress. Is there no way for this thing to end? This Jihad?"

"The Jihad will end when Allah wills its end."

"Then how will you know that it is Allah's will?"

"When the Jihad ends."

"Right. I have been lying to you. My colleague has been outside watching us as we talked on monitors. Watching your body language, trying to figure you out."

"Were you successful?"

"Somewhat," Reid stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Your name is Jamal Abaza. Your son Amir was killed in 2003 in the bombing at the Mahfouz bazaar in Cairo. Since then, you've been recruiting M. I. S. members in prison by convincing them that U. S. economic policies are exploiting third world nations and turned them into extreme fundamentalists by promising a better existence with Allah."

"I would say that you were more than somewhat successful."

"But I did not learn where your M. I. S. cell was going to make an anthrax attack in the U.S. at the new crescent tonight," Gideon countered.

"I have no knowledge of such a thing. "

"Yes, you do, Mr Abaza. And there is still time." Gideon’s face went slack. He raised a hand to his earpiece. "What?…Are you sure?" Slowly, the profiler lowered his hang, his throat dry. As he slumped away, Reid followed him into the other room. Abaza started praying again, reciting the Qu’ran, only for Gideon to come back in, the news playing in the background.

"Something has happened?"

"How could you? You choose to contort Islam into an excuse for a life of violence. You have perverted your faith to justify murder."

"Now we are finally chatting, Gideon," said Abaza, ignoring the three young profilers behind Gideon.

"You accuse Americans of being puppeteers of the third world, yet you used your own people's faith tonight to make them dance for you. Why? Why is it always those who profess to be the most fervent believers in this war? They always manipulate other people to die for them." Abaza stood up, eye blazing.

"Does your president go into battle? Or does he send your children?"

"Tonight… All those innocent people."

"There is no such thing, Gideon. They were infidels. And they were engaged in activities that spread American policies over the entire world. Your incessant need to own things, material things. Your capitalism rests on the back of third world countries. No one's hands are clean. No one is innocent. "

"Those people tonight, they were innocent. They never hurt you," Gideon emphasised.

"They hurt me by existing. Yes, the infidels shall fall at the hands of the righteous. And that is when the Jihad will end."

"So you are ready to murder 4 billion people."

"America has learned nothing from the past. You harden targets like your power plants, but you leave the soft root for our taking. What has happened tonight will affect your economy for years, the way September 11 affected air travel. And maybe the next time a giant shopping centre opens," he said as Emily walked back inside, "people will think twice before going. And maybe next it will be a school. Hey!" he called to the retreating agents.

"You can shut the video feed down now, Garcia, thanks."

"Has the sun not set yet?"

"No," Reid said, closing the door behind him.

"A shopping centre, a mall," Emily spoke into her phone. "It’s a grand opening tonight not long after sunset. That gives you about an hour."

* * *

Back at Quantico, Morgan and Hotch rushed to the elevators right when JJ caught them.

"Grand opening of the USA mall today," JJ informed them. "It’s the third-largest in the country, and it's right smack in the middle of McLean, Virginia."

"Let’s move."

* * *

As Hotch ran into the mall, he yelled back, "Morgan, I'm going to find the security office." At that moment, the profiler was called by another agent, motioning towards a van. The doors opened to the sight of a young man in uniform, shot, execution-style.

"Looks like loading dock security."

"Should we evacuate?" the agent asked.

"No, no. We'd have mass panic. Let's go."

_"Morgan, I've got 4 guys on the east end of the roof. Morgan, it’s the air vents"_

Derek put his mask on as he relayed the message to his team. "Move!"

The team moved upwards to the roof, scanning for activity. After a few minutes of walking, Morgan spotted 4 individuals near the air vents. Gaining sufficiently close, he yelled out, "Don’t move! Put the devices down and put your hands where I can see them!"

The member closest to the far end pulled out a machine gun. "Gun!"All he saw was the spray of bullets, three down, and one fleeing the scene. As Derek gave chase, the man turned to face the agent with a gun. Two shots rang out and the man fell through the glass, into the mall below.

* * *

Aaron came home to a seemingly empty house, save for the faint sound of a broadcast. "Haley?" He called out.

"Hey, in here," she replied. "You’re home. Did you see that there was an attempted robbery at the new mall? I'm glad I cancelled Jack's photos. I just decided I wanted you to be there. It's better if we do it as a family. Is everything ok?"

He looked at his baby boy and his wonderful wife. "Yeah, everything's perfect."

* * *

On the jet, Emily decided to ask the question that was bugging her. "When did you know you were gonna have to trick him?"

"The first time I talked to him." Piper looked up from her Bertram Stoker novel.

"You realised you couldn't break him?"

"Well, I realised he was too smart to have had that Nextel phone registered to him accidentally. He drew us there. He wanted our presence at Gitmo to confirm that he was successful.

"And that's when you started moving up the time of his prayers."

"If I'd used an actual clock, he might have caught on."

"So when did you figure it out?" Emily turned to Piper.

"I knew Gideon had a strategy and it was bothering me how relaxed Abaza was. That’s when it clicked for me."

"So it was all a chess game," Reid chuckled.

"We won this round, but you heard him. Jihad never ends."

Reid moved his queen to the corner. Gideon moved his rook into position.

"Mate."

"I quit," Spencer smiled. "Yield. Surrender. Capitulate. I'm gonna take a nap." Piper turned the page of her book.

"Prentiss."

"Sir?"

"You play?"

"Yes, sir, I play." Emily smiled as she moved into Reid’s seat.


End file.
